


a rendezvous

by redpaint



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Cyberpunk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28543392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redpaint/pseuds/redpaint
Summary: Pierre sits at the bar with all the traders and wanderers and surveillance paranoiacs who don’t dare brave the city. Not exactly the paddock club.
Relationships: Pierre Gasly & Daniil Kvyat, Pierre Gasly/Daniil Kvyat
Comments: 10
Kudos: 20





	a rendezvous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mondaycore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondaycore/gifts).



> for mondaycore. i wish i could give you all the greatest fics in the world. you're the best.

The bar is an island all on its own on the far periphery of the city. Urban fluorescence still reaches here, but just barely. It’s a filthy place, crowded and fogged with steam heat. Little ramshackle outposts like these skirt the city like the outer rings of a gas giant. Beyond them — only darkness. The power lines only extend so far.

Pierre sits at the bar with all the traders and wanderers and surveillance paranoiacs who don’t dare brave the city. Not exactly the paddock club. The back window sports a wide spiderweb crack. Pierre stares through it, picking out the red lights of distant freighter ships.

Dany slots back down on the barstool next to him with a heavy thud and waves down the bartender. “He says they are taking off at a quarter to midnight.”

Pierre’s stomach tightens. “That’s soon.”

“No use in waiting around. It’s not a long journey, not much worse than a flyaway. And takeoff is the worst part.”

Pierre swirls his drink. It’s nothing he’s had before, something probably brewed in the back room, sticky like syrup and as bitter as engine fumes. “That’s what he tells you?”

Dany bristles at the implication. “It’s not exactly first class, but come on, Petya. If we’re bothered by a few Gs then we _really_ don’t belong here.” The bartender slides Dany a matching glass of dark liquor. He knocks it back in a shot and gestures for another. “Aren’t you interested in what’s out there?”

Pierre sips his drink and keeps his eyes planted on the tessellated cracks in the window. “Of course I am. These cities are all the same.”

“The tracks, too.”

Pierre lets himself snort at that. “Don’t tell me they have better circuits in the peripheral settlements.”

There’s a shout from the other end of the bar, a shattered glass. It makes Pierre jump and whip his head around, but it’s clear it was just an accident. There’s already someone sweeping up the glass. When he resettles he notices that Dany is smiling at him. “Has to be better than here. New competition, too.”

“Yeah, racing against the kinds of guys who up and left Earth.”

“Yeah, I bet they are all shit racers,” Dany deadpans.

“Yeah, terrible.”

“There are other worlds out there. Opportunities. Jev, António — winning doesn’t sound so bad.”

Any news coming from outside the Metros is suspect, even more so than news coming from inside them.

“If there’s anything to race when you get there.” Pierre twists on the stool to face him, the strong alcohol finally warming him through. “You really trust this guy? A smuggler?”

Dany shrugs. “As much as I can.”

A flare-up in a distant oil field lights up the night, orange light coming in through the blinds and painting Dany’s face in temporary daylight. Dany’s foot is bouncing against the rail, a thrumming palpitation that Pierre can feel through his sneakers.

“I’m just saying there’s a clear trajectory,” Dany says, half-laughing so Pierre _knows_ it isn’t funny.

“What’s that?”

“You’re good, everyone knows you’re good, but good runs out. They run it out of you. Then you’re done.”

“Dany, I’m not going to chose my own demotion.”

“You’re right, it’s much more honorable to be fired.” Dany drains his drink again. Waves, _another._ It’s nearly eleven.

“I didn’t mean —”

“I know.”

They drink in silence for a moment. The hum of the crowd and the hiss of the pipes fill in the space between them. Pierre should have eaten beforehand, but nerves and post-race exhaustion had stopped him. He still nearly vomited on the drive over. The drink curdles in his stomach, making him ache. “You’re sure you’re going.”

“Nothing worth staying for. No skills, no friends.”

“I’ll still —”

“Everything I have, they own. They’ll take the visas. The apartment. Not much left after all that.”

“If you go —”

“You’ll just have to visit me, sometime.” Dany smiles again, weaker now. Shuttles to the outlying settlements stopped flying when security went to level red. Every remaining starport has since been stripped for copper and eaten-up by acid dust.

Pierre’s glass is empty again. His head swims a little. He looks back out the window to steady himself.

“I want you to come with me,” Dany says. His foot has stopped bouncing. He rests his knee on Pierre’s beneath the bar.

The red freighter lights look like collapsing stars — fading, fading, fading, gone. “I know.”

“You should head back. They’re going to be looking for you.”

Pierre picks up his and Dany’s glasses in one hand and taps them on the bar. “Two more, please.”

**Author's Note:**

> title from computer love by kraftwerk (but the glass candy cover is better)
> 
> redpaint on tumblr


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